One More Chance
by Kyra Renee
Summary: "I went down fighting. Just like I wanted to do." He wasn't going to accept that, she knew. The words had to be said, though, and Jo wasn't about to throw her second chance away. (AU)


Everything in her screamed at her to turn and run, putting as much distance between herself and the quiet little suburban neighborhood as possible. There was nothing but bad news waiting for her on the other side of that door, and her eyes followed the trail of interior lights as they flicked on one at a time. She should have listened to Bobby; showing up unannounced in the middle of the night was a _terrible_ idea and she rubbed her sweaty palms together and took a small, anxious step back.

The locked turned and she held her breath, steeling herself for the awkward greeting to follow and her eyes went wide as the front door swung open. He was illuminated in the light from the hallway as it spilled out onto the front porch, barely grazing the tip of her boots as she shuffled back into the shadows. It was too late and she felt something inside of her chest shatter when his sharp intake of breath gave way to a single spoken word, "Jo?"

"Hi, Dean..." The sound of her own voice sounded foreign in her ears and her smile felt forced. He was stunned into silence and she wrung her hands together, a developing nervous habit that was only made worse by his presence. She wanted to throw her arms around him and drag him out of that strange house, but she remained rooted to the spot as he looked her over.

"I'm real," she added, noting the strange look of uncertainty in his eyes. "You can run me through the tests if you want, but Bobby already went through everything before I-"

"Bobby?" The name pulled him out of his stupor and he blinked as he shook his head, cocking it to the side. "How long have you...?" He trailed off and cleared his throat.

"Almost a year," Jo said quietly with a glance down at her feet.

 _"Almost a_ year?" His echoed words caused her to flinch. His anger came as no surprise, but it was more than anger that contorted his handsome features. The last time she had spoken to Dean Winchester, she had barely been holding her guts in with an ace bandage and dying on a dirty floor. The last time they had been together, she had proposed a suicidal plan to buy them more time and blast those hell hounds sky high and it had _worked_. There was little point in trying to apologize now.

Jo lifted her gaze, rolled her shoulders back and tilted her chin up. She shifted one foot back and hooked her thumb into the back pocket of her jeans, "Aren't you going to invite me in?" Her playful tone passed right through him and after a moment of silence her easy smirk began to falter.

"It's late," his voice was clipped but thick with emotion. There were so many other things she wanted to say to him but the words were lost on her and she nodded. Licking at her chapped lips, Jo stared at a moth that danced erratically in the pale yellow light. Digging up the past wouldn't do either of them any good and she cursed herself for showing up there in the first place. Just because she couldn't shake the last long look he had given her or the feel of his lips against hers didn't mean that she needed to drag him down into the pits of misery with her. They had always danced around the flames but her death had pushed them both straight into the fire and Jo could still feel the heat of the burn.

"Right," she knew that it was her cue to leave, but her feet were glued to the porch and she searched his face desperately for any indication that he _wanted_ her to stay. His face was screwed up in concentration, confusion and _hurt_ but he made no move to pull her into a hug or even to make some smart ass remark. He was silent and she sucked in a deep breath. "Well, I really should be-"

"Dean? Everything alright?" The voice behind him caused her to jump and Jo peered around Dean as the woman stepped into view. She pulled her sheer robe tightly around herself as her dark eyes darted between them in the open doorway and Jo stared shamelessly. She was walking perfection, and exactly how she imagined Dean's better half to be. It was no surprise that he had found himself in the arms of a beautiful woman after saving the world from the apocalypse. Her dark hair still held its delicate curl and her dark eyes burned even in the absent light. She was probably kind and gentle too, everything that a hunter was not.

Dean's shoulders slumped as he deflated and nodded. "Yeah, everything is fine. Just... uh, talking to an old friend," he stepped to the side as the woman inched closer and Jo swallowed down the bile rising in her throat as the woman slipped an arm around Dean's waist. "Lisa, this is Jo. Jo, this is... Lisa," he wouldn't look at either of them and Jo raised a hand in greeting.

"Hi. Sorry, I was just leaving. I didn't realize how late it was and I didn't mean to disturb you," she took another step back as Lisa's curious gaze fell upon her. She didn't want to have a conversation with Dean's girlfriend in the middle of the night (or ever) and Jo tried at a small smile as Lisa offered her a simple dignified nod. That was all the more dismissal she needed and Jo took a deep steadying breath.

"It was good to see you, Dean," she backed away another step. "Take care of yourself," Jo spun on her heel and reached the stairs in one long stride. She would be off that porch and racing into the shadows to lick her wounded feelings in no time.

"Jo, wait!" She froze when he called out and closed her eyes as she choked on a sound. Composing herself quickly, she glanced over her shoulder to where they stood and she could see him struggling just beneath the surface. Her expression softened into a gentle smirk and she gave a small inclination of her head in silent understanding.

"Forget it, Dean," she was letting him off of the hook and the relief that flickered in his eyes made her insides twist painfully. He rocked back onto his heels and into the house.

"It was good to see you too."

* * *

The knock on the door startled her from her thoughts and she reached for the gun stashed beneath the lumpy pillow. The glass of whiskey she had been nursing was still clutched loosely in her hand as she pushed herself to her feet and crossed the room to the door. She unlocked it with a heavy sigh and her eyes swept across the dark shadow in the doorway as the door opened slowly. Before she had time to question her unexpected visitor, she was being lunged at and Jo's entire body was jerked forward. The force of the impact caused the whiskey in her glass to slosh over the side and drip down her hand, but she ignored the sticky spilled liquor as her nose buried itself against the collar of his jacket.

Her arms wrapped around him as she pulled him inside of the room. He used his foot to close the door and Jo stumbled back to drop her gun onto the bed second as her glass of whiskey fell to the floor and bounced off of the carpet, spilling the rest on the way down. He was well worth the wasted liquor. His chest was solid and the weight of his embrace was crushing, but she would gladly endure.

"I never thought I would see you again," his voice was muffled against her shoulder and she pulled away from him.

"I never thought I would get to come back," Jo admitted. "I figured that once my time was up, that was the end. But here I am," she shrugged and reached up to comb her fingers through his hair. "You didn't _actually_ miss me, did you?" Her smile was teasing and the laugh he released was strained as his eyes scanned her face.

"Jo, if there had been _any_ other way, I would've-"

"I know," she cut him off. "I know you would've. But there wasn't. You did exactly what you had to do. You did exactly what I _wanted_ you to do. It wasn't your fault, Dean. What happened to me wasn't your fault," her voice was soft as she took his face between both her hands and passed her thumbs along his cheekbones. "I went down fighting. Just like I wanted to do." He wasn't going to accept that, she knew. The words had to be said, though, and Jo wasn't about to throw her second chance away.

He was still holding her tightly and she found herself rocking up onto the balls of her feet as his lips came crashing down to meet with hers. Kissing him was everything she had imagined and more. His lips were hot and she gasped for air as he kissed down her neck and back up before capturing hers hungrily once more. She pushed his jacket off of his shoulders and wasted no time on the buttons of his shirt. Her fingers couldn't move fast enough and she admired him in the low light of the cheap motel room as they tumbled back onto the bed.

The weight of his hips settled in between her legs and she broke contact with his lips just long enough for him to tear her shirt away and toss it carelessly onto the floor. His calloused palms were rough against her skin but she basked in the heat of his body and nothing she did could really bring him close enough as he explored every inch of her that his hands and lips could reach. Dean paused for a moment to breathe as his fingers traced the spot where an ugly gnarled scar _should have_ been. Her skin was unblemished from the hell hound's attack and Jo pushed a hand through his hair as she met his gaze. She shook her head once as his lips parted to speak. He didn't need to say anything and she beckoned him back up so that she could reassure and further silence him with a gentle kiss. For a moment he lost himself to the _could have's_ and _should have_ _'s_ , but her touch was enough to reorient him and his hunger returned violently as he hooked an arm around her and shifted on the bed to sit back on his heels.

Her head fell back and her nails dragged across his back as they moved against one another; skin on skin and sweat on sweat. It was impossible to tell where she ended and he began. She was flushed and breathless when he moved over her and she gasped against the unending waves of pleasure that swelled and rocked over her, pulling her under and refusing to let her resurface until he was tearing the sheets from the bed and crying out too.

Her body was pleasantly sore and she found herself laughing as he rolled off of her with a loud groan. "What? What's so funny? Was it that bad?" He could barely speak and she covered her face with a hand as the laughter broke loose and stole her breath once more. By the time she was able to calm herself down, he was chuckling right alongside her and Jo turned her head to search his face.

"Sorry. I just... I'm still having a hard time believing that I'm not in Heaven anymore," she admitted with a small smile. "It really isn't that far-fetched to assume that you're dead too. You do have a habit of dying," she reminded him as she rolled onto her stomach and crawled up beside him. His arm stretched out to welcome her and he pulled her flush against his side so he could press his lips to her sweat-damp hair.

Jo lost track of time as the frenzied pounding of their hearts slowed and the sweat dried on their skin. The neon sign outside of her room flickered and cast the room in an eerie red glow that illuminated his skin and twisted the shadows on the walls. She could see the pensive glint in his eyes as he stared at the ceiling and she dragged a hand along his chest. The inevitable was coming and she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip as she tilted her head towards him. "You have to go," it wasn't a question and she felt his muscles tense beneath her before his head turned slowly. "I get it. I understand," she made to pull away but he held her close and Jo felt her breath hitch in her throat.

"Jo..." His lips were on hers again, just as tender and desperate as they had been the night she had died.

"Dean," she breathed out his name as she pulled back and reached up to flatten her palm against his cheek. "Don't." Her gaze was hard and he swallowed thickly. His forehead rested against hers, but he was soon untangling himself from her limbs and from the sheets. She fell back against the pillow and pushed out a controlled breath while he dressed with his back to her. She would've given anything to freeze that moment in time. There was so much she wanted to say but speaking would only shatter the moment and Jo wanted to remember every single detail of that night for the rest of her life and even well into her next afterlife.

Dean would go back to his nuclear family and she would become just a distant memory - a good dream, maybe. He would fall into bed next to Lisa and wake up in the morning with a smile on his face while Jo crawled back to her den of hunters and kept the shadows from creeping too close to that little suburban neighborhood. That was her job - her purpose. She would die a hunter (again). But at least she would die protecting him and saving some lives along the way. If it meant Dean could live the normal life he had always fought for, then from where she was standing it was well worth the sacrifice.

He was shrugging back into his jacket and she sat up, clutching the sheets to cover her bare chest. It would've been easier to let him go without saying a word, but since when had she ever taken the easy route?

"Take care of yourself, Dean. I mean it. You've been out of the game for a while now, but they haven't forgotten about you. Especially since-" Jo cut herself off as he looked over his shoulder with a quirked brow. She licked at her lips nervously and glanced at the window and the sheer curtain that kept the night at bay. "Look, I'm not supposed to say anything but I think you should know. I'm not the only one that came back. It's... Sam. Sam's back too. I should've told you sooner, I'm sorry..."

She didn't have to look at him to know that surprise, shock, disbelief and grief passed over his features and twisted them. The silence that hung between them was heavily charged with questions she didn't have answers to and she stared at the spot on the bed where he had been. "You should get home." If he wanted to be angry with her, then fine. She could deal with anger. In fact, it was preferable to the alternative and Jo closed her eyes as the door slammed forcefully behind him. The silence and emptiness that settled in resonated in her bones and she sunk back down onto the mattress with a deep sigh. He'd be back, of that she was certain. But the next time was sure to be _much_ different and she began to mentally prepare herself for the fallout.

Dean Winchester was going to be the death of her, again.


End file.
